The Professor and His Queen
by xXJennJennXx
Summary: Marceline is a newly-single 19 year old, with no home or job. She is taken in by an old family friend, Professor Simon Petrikov, and they realize that their feelings for each other may run deeper than friendship.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This is a bit of an unconventional pairing, but I'd read some great stories with it and just had try it out! As always, reviews are appreciated! **

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The click of Marceline Abadeer's combat boots on the pavement was lost in the honking horns, catcalls, and drunken conversations of the street around her. Although the air was warm, the nineteen-year-old woman pulled her leather jacket closer around her body and kept her head down as she made her way as far from her former home as she could. She didn't know where she was going and, at the moment, didn't care.

She had started the night as she usually did, at her boyfriend Ash's ramshackle house in a neglected suburb. She had been having a great time, sitting on the couch next to Ash, his hand often straying to her chest, sipping a beer and chatting with his friends. Every so often, someone would hand Ash an envelope and he would direct them to one of the large, usually silent men sitting around the room, who would escort them to a back room, then out the door. Marceline vaguely suspected that they were buying drugs, of what kind she didn't know.

"Hey, Bufo, get Mar-Mar another beer," Ash had ordered, winking at his henchman with wart-covered fingers.

"Sure thing," Bufo grunted.

He disappeared into the kitchen and reemerged a few moments later holding a red plastic cup which he handed to the pale woman now perched on Ash's lap. She nodded her thanks and took a sip, only to feel something hard hit against her lips. She spat into her hand, revealing a small white pill, perforated to be split into four sections and marked with the word "ROCHE".

"What the fuck is this?" Marceline asked, holding the pill between her fingers.

"Bufo, you idiot!" Ash screamed. "You didn't let it dissolve first?"

"You…you were going to drug me?" Marceline cried. "Just to fuck me?"

"Oh, come on, Mar-Mar," Ash replied, trying to pull her into a hug. "It was just supposed to make you relax. Don't you want to make me happy?"

"I can't believe you! Fuck off, Ash!" Marceline grabbed her purse and started towards the door.

Ash tried to grab Marceline's wrist, but she pulled away and slapped him. Two of his henchman grabbed her arms, but Ash shook his head.

"Let her go," Ash said, swiping his bloody mouth with the back of his hand. "She'll be back before long."

Marceline had stormed out of the house and down the street, intent on getting home as quickly as possible. After nearly an hour's walk, Marceline had arrived at the doorstep, exhausted and crying, only to have her father meet her, reeking of alcohol and days-old sweat. He let her in and stood in the foyer, his arms crossed, wearing a stained undershirt and boxers.

"Let me by, Dad, I've had a shit day," Marceline growled, trying to nudge past her father.

"What's the meaning of this, Marceline?" Hunson Abadeer asked, holding up a Ziploc bag filled with marijuana.

"Dad!" The pale woman screamed. "Give that back!"

Marceline pulled the Ziploc from Hunson's hand and stuffed it into her purse.

"Is that alcohol I smell on your breath?" Hunson asked, placing his hands on Marceline's shoulders and shoving his face close to hers.

"I don't know, Dad, maybe you smell yourself," Marceline fired back pushing her father's hands away.

Hunson stepped back, lost his footing, and fell on the floor. Marceline's tears were coming in earnest now and she couldn't control her anger any longer. Her father was always drunk, always yelling, always telling her she was stupid or good for nothing. Seeing him on the floor struggling to get up served only to make the woman even angrier. She tried to hold back, but before she could stop herself, she was standing over the older man, tears running down her face, screaming at him.

"Why should it matter if I've been drinking, Pops?" Marceline screamed. "It's not like you don't spend your day doing the exact same thing, right? At least I only drink with my friends! At least I don't sit around all alone in last week's clothes sucking down cheap vodka! At least-"

Marceline's words were cut off when Hunson rose to his feet, took a stumbling step towards her, and punched her. She cried out in shock, touched her eye, then looked back and forth from the tips of her fingers to her father's face. She started to speak, but found herself at a rare loss for words.

"Get out," Hunson growled. "I never want to see you in this house again, you worthless whore."

"What? Where am I supposed to go?"

"To hell, for all I care," came Hunson's response as he shuffled from the foyer to the kitchen.

"Already there, Dad," Marceline mumbled as she turned to open the door. "Already there."

With those final parting words, Marceline had set out to find somewhere to stay the night. She had walked through the city aimlessly, unsure of where she was going or why. It wasn't until the chill began to set in that Marceline had realized that she was in a bad part of town, and she began to feel uncomfortable. She decided that the only thing she could do at this point would be to call her friends in the hopes that they had a place for her to crash for a few days. She pulled out her cell phone and scrolled through a list of contacts. When she saw the name of her best friend, Bonnibel, she stopped and tapped the number.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Mrs. B," Marceline said. "Is Bonnie there?"

"Oh, Marceline, I didn't recognize your voice," the woman replied. "No, Bonnie went out with some friends tonight and she left her cell phone. She said that she'd be back around midnight. Would you like me to ask her to call you when she gets back?"

"No, thanks, Mrs. B," Marceline replied. "I'll see her around."

"Wait, Marceline. Are you…how are things at home? Are you okay?"

"Things are great," Marceline lied. "I'm fine. I'll catch up with Bonnie later. Bye!"

"Goodbye, Marceline."

Marceline ended the call and tried to hold back the tears brimming in her eyes. She continued down the street a bit, trying to put off the inevitable. Finally, she realized she didn't have a choice in the matter and dialed Ash's phone number from memory. It rang once, twice, and Marceline nearly hung up, but before she had the chance, a woman picked up and said hello.

"Who is this?" Marceline asked.

"This is Fi. Who is this?"

"This is Marceline. Is…Is Ash there?" She asked.

"Right here, baby," Ash said, taking the phone from Fi. "You gonna apologize about that stunt you pulled earlier?"

Marceline took a deep breath. Her mind was reeling, and she was angry. She had left Ash's house no more than two hours ago, and he was already with another woman. Not just any other woman, but Fi, the fiery red-headed high school sophomore who was rumored to have anger issues and an overbearing father who had kept her locked in her room for most of her teenage years.

"What's Fi doing there?" Marceline asked.

"Oh, she just dropped by. She's not as uptight as you are, Mar-Mar. You know how it is."

"Yeah, I guess," Marceline stammered. "Look, can I come over? I'm sorry I stormed out earlier and I need somewhere to crash for the night."

"Sure thing, babe," Ash replied. "Just give me about an hour. I'll be done with Fi by then. I knew you'd come crawling back."

Marceline felt her face grow hot with embarrassment and anger, and she vehemently shook her head.

"No," Marceline said. "I'm not…I'll find somewhere else to stay. I-I never want to see you again!"

"Suit yourself, Mar-Mar. I'll be here when you want me."

Marceline forcefully hit a button ending the call and slipped her phone back into her pocket. She wasn't sure what to do now. Bonnie wasn't home and, besides, if she went to her house she would ask where the bruise came from, and why she smelled like a brewery, and Marceline wasn't sure that she could handle the questions from the pink-haired woman. Not tonight, at least.

She had other friends of course, but most of them were also Ash's friends, and she didn't trust any of them any more than she trusted him. They had dated on and off since their freshman year of high school, more on than off, and Ash had tried his best to drive away all the friends Marceline had made during junior high. He had almost succeeded, scaring away everyone but Bonnibel, who had been inseparable from Marceline since they were three years old and put in the same play group together, and later on, Finn Hugh, who began his first year of high school when Marceline, Ash, and Bonnibel were seniors.

Finn was a good kid, always trying to be a white knight to a damsel in distress. He had a hopeless crush on Bonnibel, unaware that she was more interested in women than men and had, at times, taken Marceline into her bed after the dark-haired woman had a fight with Ash, or simply needed someone to hold her. Marceline considered calling him, but he and his older brother, Jake, shared a very cramped studio apartment, not to mention the fact that he, like Bonnibel, would ask too many questions.

Marceline realized she had walked further than she intended, and she was lost. She looked around, trying to figure out where she was without looking vulnerable, and she saw that she was on the campus of the University of Ooo. Her heart soared and she smiled.

"Simon," Marceline whispered.

She pulled her cell phone out and opened a GPS app. She found the address for the campus' faculty housing and realized that it was only a few blocks away. She slipped her phone back in her pocket and started towards the apartments, hoping beyond hope that Simon was home and willing to take her in for the night.

Simon was an old friend of Marceline's father. They had met in college when they were roommates, and had remained close in the years afterword. Simon had been the best man at Hunson's wedding, babysat Marceline throughout her childhood, and helped carry her mother's casket when she died a few days after Marceline's tenth birthday. Since then, he had made an effort to be a friend to Marceline, taking her shopping and to school functions so that no one would know that her father had a problem with alcohol. He had even made Sunday brunches a weekly tradition, until Marceline started dating Ash and waking up more Sundays than not with a hangover so bad that she couldn't be motivated to get out of bed in time for lunch, let alone brunch.

Marceline found the faculty apartments with ease and walked into the foyer. She scanned a list of names and found that Simon's apartment was number 512. She took the elevator, walked down the hall, and stood at Simon's door. She raised her hand to knock, then put it back down, suddenly nervous. She hadn't seen Simon in quite a while, and she felt bad about stopping by without so much as calling first. She considered, decided that her only other option was sleeping on a park bench, and sighed. She knocked, softly at first, then with more force.

"Just a moment!" Simon called from inside the house.

Marceline smoothed her hair and tried her best to smile. As soon as Simon opened the door, however, she began to cry. The white-haired professor of archeology stared at her for a moment, bewildered, before speaking.

"Marceline?" He asked, reaching out to take the woman in his arms. "Marceline, come in! Honey, what's wrong?"

"I need somewhere to stay for the night," Marceline whispered.

"You can stay here, of course!" Simon said.

Marceline looked up at him with gratitude in her eyes. She studied him, from his penguin-printed pajama pants to his bare chest. A thought occurred to her and she turned red rom embarrassment.

"You're not…busy, are you?" Marceline asked, looking pointedly behind her.

"Oh no, I was just going to watch a movie and…Oh, God no, no. I haven't been busy that way in quite a while…Oh, wowzers, that was inappropriate."

"Nah," Marceline said, in contrast to her deepening blush.

"Now that _that _awkwardness is out of the way, come on inside. I made popcorn and was just sitting down to watch a movie, but now I think I've lost interest. I'd rather know what happened to you, Marcy."

Marceline bit her lip and Simon realized that she didn't want to talk.

"It's fine, Marceline, you don't have to tell me. Just relax, okay? Can I get you something to eat?"

"No," Marceline replied. "I'm fine."

"When's the last time you ate?" Simon asked, his overprotectiveness shining through.

"I don't know…Yesterday at breakfast? I don't really remember."

"Okay, come on into the kitchen. I have leftover Chinese take-out."

Simon gently took Marceline's hand and led her into the kitchen as if she was a small child. He sat her at the table and took several cartons of food out of the fridge and emptied their contents onto a plate. He warmed the food, poured Marceline a glass of milk, and sat down across from her while she ate. She finished off the plate as if she was ravenous, and Simon filled up another without asking.

"Thank-you, Simon," Marceline said, putting her fork down and draining the last of her second glass of milk. "For the food and letting me stay."

"I just wish you'd tell me what led you here. I know things at home haven't been so great, but that bruise on your eye is worrying me."

"Dad punched me," Marceline whispered, her voice small.

"He what?" Simon roared, standing up from the table.

"It's not a big deal…he was drunk-"

"Surprise, surprise," Simon mumbled. "What happened?"

"I was at Ash house, and we were drinking, and he tried to slip me a roofie, and I," Marceline paused, momentarily at a loss for words when she saw the look of shock and anger on Simon's face.

"Go on," her said, taking off his glasses and massaging the bridge of his nose.

Marceline nodded and told Simon everything that happened, from her fight with Ash to her wandering around the city in search of somewhere to stay. When she finished, she put her head in her hands and began to cry.

"I lost my boyfriend…and my father," she sobbed. "I don't have anywhere to stay, and I'm-I'm scared!"

Simon pulled Marceline into his arms and hugged her close to him. Once she stopped crying, he gently wiped away her tears with the pad of his thumb and smiled.

"You can stay here as long as you need, Marceline," he assured her. "It's a one-bedroom, but I can sleep on the pull-out couch. Don't ever worry about having somewhere to go, okay?"

Marceline nodded.

"Now," Simon said, standing up, "let's find you some pajamas for the night and I'll call your father tomorrow and set up a time to pick up your things, okay?"

"Okay," Marceline agreed.

Simon led her into his room, where he pulled out an old University t-shirt and a pair of draw-string pajama shorts.

"These may be a bit big, but it should do for the night," Simon said, handing the clothes to Marceline. "I'll leave you to change."

Simon went into the living room and sat down on the couch, waiting for Marceline to emerge. In his bedroom, Marceline undressed and slipped the t-shirt over her head, carefully pulling her long, black hair through the neck. She pulled the shorts up, over her visible hipbones and under her navel, and pulled the drawstrings to their tightest. As soon as she released them, however, the shorts fell down around her ankles and Marceline sighed in annoyance.

After a few more attempts, Marceline gave up and decided that she would have to sleep in her underwear for the night. The t-shirt she was wearing fell to mid-thigh, and she decided it was long enough to serve as a nightgown. She opened the door and walked out to the living room.

Simon was sitting on the couch, his arms spread and his head back. Marceline tiptoed behind him and wrapped her arms around his neck.

"Thank you so much, Simon," Marceline said.

"You're welcome, Marceline," he said. "You know that my home is always open to you."

"You sure you don't want me to sleep out here? I feel bad taking your bed."

"Not at all," Simon replied. "I usually end up crashing out here anyway. Now get some sleep, Marcy."

"Okay," Marceline agreed. "Good night."

"Night. Sleep good."

Marceline nodded and went back to Simon's room. She shut the door behind her and settled into Simon's large bed. She realized that the pillows smelled like him, and she drifted off into a peaceful sleep, feeling safe, happy, and content.


	2. Chapter 2

The next morning, Simon eased open the door of his bedroom and saw that Marceline had wrapped herself tightly in the blankets and was snoring lightly. He watched her sleep for a moment, and it occurred to him just how beautiful she was. A blush rose on his face, and he shook his head as if to clear it and gently put his hand on Marceline's shoulder.

"Wake up, Marcy," Simon whispered.

"Huh? Oh, good morning, Simon," Marceline said, looking up at the older man.

"I just wanted to tell you that I have classes until three today. I left money on the counter and there's numbers to the places that will deliver on a list on the fridge."

"Okay," Marceline said. "Thanks, Simon."

"Will you be okay here on your own? I can cancel if you'd like…"

"I'm fine," Marceline assured him. "Go forth and educate the eager young minds. I'm going back to sleep."

"As you wish, Miss Abadeer," Simon chuckled. "Sleep well, princess."

"Queen," Marceline mumbled, rolling over onto her belly. "And don't you forget it."

"Sleep well, my queen," Simon corrected, easing the door closed behind him.

Simon unlocked his classroom and began his first class of the day. He went about his routine as usual, lecturing about the ethics involved in archeological expeditions until his lunch break. Rather than leaving his office door open so that students who needed to speak with him had the opportunity, he closed and locked it so that he could call Marceline's father and hear his side of the story.

Simon was beginning to think that Hunson wasn't going to answer when he finally heard a click and a gruff hello.

"Hello, Hunson. This is Simon."

"Hey Simon, how you been?" Hunson asked, slurring his words.

"I'm fine. Look, Marceline's at my house and-"

"She's nothing but trouble, Simon," Hunson interrupted. "I'd kick her out before she fucks anything up."

"Well, she told me what happened last night and I was…concerned. She said you hit her, Hunson."

"Yeah? So what?" Hunson replied, suddenly defensive.

"She's you're daughter!" Simon exclaimed. "You can't hit your teenage daughter and then throw her out on the street!"

"She's an adult. If she wants to come home from that piece-of-shit boyfriend's house smelling like booze she can, but it won't be my home she comes into. As far as I'm concerned, she's nothing but a worthless whore, and she's your responsibility now."

With those parting words, Hunson slammed down the phone, disconnecting the call. Simon stared at the phone for a moment in disbelief before returning it to the base and leaning back in his chair. He took his glasses off, closed his eyes, and rubbed the bridge of his nose. Simon tried to tell himself that she couldn't believe what Hunson had said about Marceline, but deep down, he could. His old friend hadn't been the same since Marceline's mother, Alice, had died.

Hunson and Alice had shared a loving, successful marriage during their time together. Alice had inherited a large company that had been in her family for generations, and she and Hunson had turned it into a greater success than it had ever been. After Alice's death, however, Hunson started drinking, and quickly spiraled into alcoholism. Over the years, he ran the company into the ground and had sold it for a small percent of its original value when Marceline was seventeen. Their home was paid for, but they had lost nearly everything else.

Simon was interrupted from his thoughts when a knock sounded at his office door. He glanced through the glass window and saw that it was Marceline's best friend, Bonnibel. Sighing, Simon stood, straightened his jacket and bowtie, and unlocked the door.

"Hello, Professor Petrikov," Bonnibel said. "I was wondering if you'd seen Marceline?"

"Hello, Bonnibel. Sit down," Simon said, gesturing to a chair in front of his desk. "Marceline is at my apartment right now. She's going through a difficult time at the moment, and she'll be staying with me for a while, but she's fine."

Bonnibel breathed a sigh of relief.

"I was so worried about her," the pink-haired girl whispered. "My mom told me she called last night, but I wasn't home, and today she wouldn't answer her cell. I didn't think much of it because she never remembers to charge the thing, but then that…that bastard she's dating cornered me as I was walking to class and asked me where she was. He said she wasn't at home, and she wasn't at his house, and that she was going to regret it if he didn't find her soon. I started to worry that…well, that he'd hurt her or something."

"Did he hurt you?" Simon asked, well aware of the fact that Ash wasn't afraid to hit a woman if she angered him enough.

"He grabbed at me a bit, but I'm fine," Bonnibel replied. "If you don't mind my asking, was it him or her father who's causing her problems?"

"A bit of both, actually," Simon responded. "Ash tried to drug her, and her father punched her when she got home. She's…she has it rough right now."

Bonnibel nodded.

"Would it be okay if I stopped by to see her sometime?" She asked.

"That would be lovely," Simon said. "Let me write down the address."

Simon scribbled his address on a piece of paper and smiled.

"Stop by any time. She could use a friend."

"Thanks, Professor," Bonnibel said. "I have a class in three minutes, so I better get going!"

"Have a nice day, Bonnibel. I'll tell Marceline you were asking about her!"

"You too, Professor Petrikov. Thanks!"

Simon smiled and straightened the papers on his desk before returning to his classroom. The rest of the day went by without event, and he rushed back to his apartment to make sure that Marceline was okay. He had tried to call, but she hadn't answered the phone and he assumed she was still asleep. Even so, he couldn't help but worry that something was wrong.

When Simon unlocked his door, he heard the sound of a video game and breathed a sigh of relief. He entered the living room and found Marceline sitting in the floor, controller in hand, wearing the t-shirt and underwear she had fallen asleep in the night before. She saw Simon and paused the game, leaning back against the couch and smiling up at him.

"Hey Simon," she said, giggling.

"Marceline, are you…Are you drunk?" Simon asked, pausing in the act of taking off his jacket.

"Nah, just a little tipsy," Marceline replied. "That café down the street delivers beer!"

"You mean they didn't check your ID?" Simon asked, approaching the girl.

"Ash gave me a fake one a while back," Marceline replied. "You don't mind do you?"

"No, I guess not," Simon said after some consideration. "Just don't make it a habit."

"I won't. Sit down and tell me about your day, Professor," Marceline ordered.

Simon sat down and before he could react, Marceline had climbed into his lap.

"What are you doing?" He asked, alarmed.

"Remember when I used to sit in your lap and we'd sing to each other?" Marceline asked.

"Of course," Simon replied. "But that was a long time ago, and this is hardly appropri-"

"Hush," Marceline said, placing her hand over the older man's mouth. "Just hold me, Simon. Please."

Simon sighed and slowly, hesitantly, wrapped his arms around the woman. She buried her head in his chest and tightened her hold on him. Simon gently began running his fingers through her long, silky hair. As wonderful as it felt, his mind was filled with conflicting emotions; He had been almost like a second father to Marceline, or had tried to at least, but he couldn't deny the fact that he'd wanted this, wanted to hold her to stroke her hair and tell her how perfect she was, for a long time.

"No one wants me," Marceline whispered, and Simon realized she had been crying softly, leaving a wet spot on his shirt.

"That's not true, Marcy," Simon whispered, cuddling her closer to him. "I want you." Simon's face turned red when he realized the double entendre in his words. "I love you."

Marceline looked up at Simon with wide eyes.

"Really?" She asked.

"Really," Simon replied, kissing her on top of the head.

"You know, I've had a crush on you since I was like, twelve," Marceline said, giggling. "All the other girls were talking about pop stars and I just thought you were the cutest thing ever. Guess I've always been into the silver foxes, you know?"

Simon laughed.

"I have to admit, I've thought about you that way from time to time," Simon admitted. "Since you were about sixteen or so."

"Wow," Marceline said, looking up at Simon. "Are you serious?"

"I shouldn't have said that. I'm sorry, Marceline, that's completely inappropriate."

"Nah," Marceline said. "Hey Simon?"

"Hmm?"

Marceline gently placed her hands on either side of Simon's face, her bright red nails disappearing into his white beard. She brought her face up to his and kissed him deeply, worming her tongue into his mouth and moving her legs around his waist. Simon returned the kiss for a brief moment, feeling himself become impossibly hard in his slacks, before realizing who he was sharing it with. His reaction was immediate and unconscious: he stood, and Marceline tumbled to the floor. She stared at him in shock for a long moment, and stumbled to her feet.

"I'm sorry, Marceline," Simon said.

"No, I'm the one that's sorry. I'll leave."

"No!" Simon exclaimed, a little more sharply than he intended. "I mean, I don't want you to leave, but we can't do…_that_ anymore. Not that I don't want to, it's just, Good God, I changed your diapers! I shouldn't be feeling this way about you!"

"I'm going to lie down," Marceline said, trying to hide the tears forming in her eyes.

"Okay," Simon said, brushing his hair out of his eyes. "Sleep well, Marceline. I'm really sorry."

"Don't worry about it," Marceline replied, shutting the door behind her a little too roughly.

Simon sunk back down into the couch, willing his erection away, but no matter how much he tried he couldn't erase the feelings Marceline had awakened in him. Sighing, he stood and went into the bathroom and sat on the close toilet lid. He undid his pants and freed his penis, taking it in his hands and groaning lightly. He imagined Marceline pinned under him, her legs wrapped around his waist, her fingernails leaving scratch marks down his back as he made love to her. He wanted to feel her small, perky breasts pressed against his chest, and to whisper in her ear that he wanted her…Oh, God, did he want her. Simon came with a grunt and instantly felt guilt wash over him.

He cleaned himself up, went back to the couch, and lay down. He sat back up when he realized that something was under him, and realized that it was Marceline's leather jacket. He started to hang it up, but caught a whiff of her intoxicating scent when he picked it up. Glancing behind him and seeing that he was alone, he buried his face in the smooth leather, inhaling deeply.

"What have I gotten myself into?" Simon thought.

He lay back on the couch for a nap, not bothering to pull it out into a bed, and fell asleep with the jacket in his arms, clinging to it tightly.

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**A/N: Thanks for reading! Please leave a review to let me know what you think or anything I can improve on!**


	3. Chapter 3

Marceline awoke in the afternoon, her head throbbing. She rolled over and saw that Simon had left her a note on the bedside table. Her throat clenched and she reached to take it with a trembling hand. She couldn't imagine that it said anything she wanted to read.

"Dear Marcy," she read, "I have classes until five today. When I get home we can talk about last night. Don't worry, everything is good. Love, Simon."

Marceline sat up in bed and she tried to decipher what Simon had meant when he wrote the letter. The sound of the apartment's doorbell brought the young woman out of the thoughts and she sighed, fumbled for Simon's robe, and tied the string tightly around her waist. The doorbell sounded again and Marceline sighed in exasperation.

"Coming!" She yelled.

When she opened the door, Marceline was surprised to see Bonnie, a heavy-looking backpack slung over her shoulder and her arms full of books.

"Hey, Bonnie!" She exclaimed, pulling the pink-haired girl into a hug. "Come on in! Simon said you might drop by."

"He told me what happened, Marceline," Bonnie said, placing her things on the floor. "I'm so sorry I wasn't there when you needed me."

"It's okay, Bub-bubs," Marceline said, taking her hand and leading her to the couch. "Everything worked out for the best…Or I thought it did. Oh God, I don't know anymore…"

Without warning, Marceline burst into tears and clung to Bonnibel, her face buried in the other girl's neck.

"Marcy?" Bonnibel asked tentatively. "Marcy, what happened?"  
"I was an idiot," Marceline sobbed.

Slowly, often having to stop to catch her breath, she told Bonnie what had happened between her and Simon.

"He doesn't think of me the same way I think of him, and now he thinks I'm just some stupid slut!"

"I'm sure he doesn't think that, Marceline," Bonnie soothed, stroking the woman's hair. "It probably just surprised him. You said the note he left said that everything was okay, so why worry?"

"Because I feel more for Simon than I ever felt with Ash or the other guys I've been with. It's so much more than just wanting him, Bonnie. I-I think I'm in love with him."

"Oh, Marcy," Bonnibel whispered. "I don't know that I can say anything to make it better. You know I would if I could."

Marceline nodded against Bonnibel's shoulder and allowed her friend to take her in her arms until her crying stopped. Across campus, Simon was finishing up a lecture when the door to his classroom opened and the head of the archeology department stepped inside. Ricardo Valentine was a red faced man, with heavy eyebrows and a smile that sent shivers down the spines of students and other professors alike.

When Simon's lecture was over and the students began to file out of his classroom, Professor Valentine made his way to the white-haired professor.

"Hello, Simon," he said, his voice deep. "I have a huge favor to ask you."

"What would that be, Ricardo?" Simon asked as he straightened the papers on his desk. \

"Dr. Xergiok Birdman from the cultural anthro department got a grant to study in Egypt for six weeks. He'll be leaving this Sunday, and we would love to throw him a party."

"That would be nice," Simon said, slowly realizing what Ricardo was going to ask him and how he could get out of it.

"Now, normally I would throw it, but my wife's out of town," Ricardo continued. "I know it's late notice, but would you be willing to throw something together for, oh, tonight at around seven?"

"I have classes until five," Simon said, rummaging around in his briefcase for his cell phone. "There's no possible way I could have it ready by tonight."

"You're up for tenure review this year aren't you, Simon?" Ricardo asked, leaning against the desk. "Next week as a matter of fact, correct?"

"Yes," Simon sighed.

"Now, I'm not saying that throwing this party will help you, but it certainly can't hurt, can it?"

"No," Simon relented, his shoulders slumping. "I can have a little something ready, I suppose."

"Wonderful!" Ricardo exclaimed. "I'll invite the whole department. Seven?"

"Seven will be fine," Simon said.

He watched Ricardo go, found his cell phone, and dialed his home number. At the apartment, Marceline was seeing Bonnibel off to class and she had to jog to the kitchen to answer.

"Hello, Petrikov residence," Marceline said.

"Hey, Marcy, it's Simon," the professor said. "Look, I need you to do something for me, okay?"

"Sure," Marceline replied. "What is it?"

Simon explained what Ricardo had asked him to do and instructed her to take his credit card and go shopping for the party.

"No problem, Simon," Marceline said. I'll be home before your last class is over."

"I don't know how I can ever repay you, Marcy. Thanks so much."

"Anytime. See you soon."

"Wait," Simon said. "While you're out, why don't you find yourself a new outfit. Something fancy."

"What for?"

"Well, if you're going to be my date tonight you can't wear my t-shirts and robe, can you?"

"I guess not," Marceline said, smiling brightly.

"I have to go teach," Simon said, unknowingly wearing the same smile as Marceline. "Hey, Queen Marceline?"

"Yes?"

"I love you."

"I love you too, Simon," Marceline said breathlessly. "Now go teach."

Marceline returned the phone to its base and smiled. She pulled on a pair of the sweat pants Simon had bought her from the University bookstore along with one of his t-shirts and put her hair up in a pony-tail. She quickly jotted down a list of things she would need for the party, then set out to shop.

When Simon arrived home a bit after five, he let himself in and was shocked at the transformation his apartment had undergone. While it had been clean when he left this morning, it was spotless now. Marceline had found Simon's record player and extensive collection of jazz and had set them out so that she could put them on before guests began to arrive. She had also dimmed the lights just a bit and set out coasters.

"This place looks wonderful, Marcy!" Simon called.

"Thanks!" She replied. "Come in the kitchen!"

Simon opened the door to the kitchen and smiled. Marceline was bent over the oven, taking out a pan of cupcakes. Another pan rested on the cooling rack, and a nearby serving tray was full of cupcakes, already frosted to perfection. Marceline put the pan on the cooling rack and stripped off her oven mitts and apron. When she turned around, Simon felt his breath catch in his throat.

Marceline was wearing a form-fitting red dress that came down to just above her knees. She had twisted her hair into an elegant braided bun, leaving two strands down to frame her face. To complete the outfit, she was wearing red high heels that made her seem, to Simon at least, all the more regal and commanding.

"Wowzers," Simon finally managed to say. "You're gorgeous."

"Thanks," Marceline said, a light blush dusting her cheeks. "I made dessert and ordered some food from the deli down the street. I hope that's okay."

"That sounds wonderful, Marcy. I don't know if I can thank you enough."

"Well, considering that you're letting me crash here, it's kinda the least I could do."

Marceline busied herself by icing the cupcakes while Simon watched, afraid that he would mess something up if he tried to help.

"Look, Marcy, about last night…We need to talk."

Marceline jumped, squeezing an oversized dollop of icing onto a cupcake.

"I suppose we do," she replied, removing the ruined cupcake and moving on to another.

Simon went to Marceline, taking the pastry bag from her and gently taking her hands in his own.

"Marceline, I care about you more than anything, and I can't deny that I have feelings for you. I-I want to be with you, Marcy."

Marceline was staring into Simon's eyes, trying to form an answer, when the doorbell rang. The young woman jumped for the second time in a short period and went towards the foyer.

"That's the delivery from the deli!" She called over her shoulder.

Simon leaned against the counter, still recovering from the confession he had just made, then went to help Marceline carry the food to the kitchen and put it on serving platters. They didn't talk while they were working, and Simon couldn't help but worry that he had scared Marceline away. Finally, when everything was arranged perfectly, Marceline turned to Simon and smiled.

"Everything should be ready. I laid a suit out on your bed."

"I really don't know how to thank you for all this Marcy.."

"Thank me by getting dressed…and combing your hair."

Simon gave Marceline a brisk salute.

"Yes, Ma'am."

"Hey Simon, wait," Marceline called after him.

"Hmm?"

Marceline wrapped both arms around Simon's neck and pulled him into a kiss. He placed his hands on her waist, pulling her closer and slipping his tongue into her mouth. They broke the kiss when they needed air, but kept their arms around each other for a moment longer.

"I want to be with you too, Simon," Marceline whispered, toying with the hair that touched the back of his neck. "Go get your suit on before the guests arrive, okay?"

"Sure thing, Marcy," the professor replied, awestruck.

Simon finally managed to release Marceline, and he left her leaned against the kitchen counter, her distinct smirk on her face. Just as he was straightening his bowtie, the doorbell rang and the party began.

The celebration lasted until nearly midnight. When Marceline and Simon had shown the last guests out the door, they collapsed onto the couch together, exhausted. Marceline kicked off her heels and placed her feet in Simon's lap. He gently began to massage them, eliciting a quiet moan from the young woman.

"You're an excellent hostess, Marceline," Simon said. "Everyone seemed to be really enchanted with you."

"Everyone but Betty," Marceline replied, taking a half-full wine glass someone had left on the coffee table and draining it. "Bitch still hates me because I said I didn't want to be her flower girl."

Simon smiled, remembering Marceline's response the day that he had told her he was marrying Betty, a fellow professor at the university. Marceline had been twelve at the time, and her crush on the older man had been in full swing. When he had announced his engagement, Marceline had hid in her room, crying, the whole day. Betty tried to console her by offering to make her the flower girl, but Marceline had used her very colorful vocabulary, along with a few choice hand gestures, to tell her no. Betty had never been fond of her since then, and when the engagement was called off a few weeks later after it was revealed that the bride-to-be was having an affair, Marceline had been so happy.

"She'll get over it," Simon chuckled. "Hey, Marcy?"

"Would it…Would it be okay if I kissed you?"

"Come here, you dork," Marceline replied, leaning up and taking Simon's face in her hands.

The young woman gently kissed the older professor, taking his hands and placing them firmly on her waist. The kiss deepened, became more passionate, and Simon's hand trailed up to Marceline's breasts. He broke the kiss and looked at her questioningly. She nodded, and that was all the invitation Simon needed. He kneaded her breast with one hand, his fingers tracing over the hardened outline of her nipple through the silky fabric, while his other hand went to her hair and twisted in it. He planted light kisses down her jawline, trailing his lips down her neck.

Marceline began to tug at Simon's clothes, and he at hers. They fumbled, undoing buttons and pulling zippers in a dance that was graceless and primal. Once they were both free of their clothing, Marceline pushed Simon back onto the couch and climbed on top of him, grinding against him. Slowly, she slid down and grasped his penis at the base, guiding the tip into her mouth. Without warning, she plunged down, taking his entire length in her throat. Simon unconsciously bucked his hips as Marceline deep-throated him, eagerly swallowing the pre-cum that dribbled into her mouth.

She sensed when he was nearing the breaking point and stopped, taking a moment to catch her breath. Simon took the opportunity to place both hands on her small waist and push her onto her back so that he could be on top. He pinned her to the couch and she wrapped her legs around his waist, just as he had fantasized. As he positioned himself at her entrance, he looked up as if to get her permission to continue, and was surprised to see that she looked a bit scared.

"Do you want me to stop?" Simon asked. "I don't want to pressure you into anything."

"No it's just…I've never really done this before."

"You're a virgin?" Simon asked, his eyes wide.

Marceline nodded and Simon rolled over his back, propped up on his elbows so that he could look at her. She drew her knees up to her chest, suddenly feeling self-conscious and vulnerable.

"I mean, I've blown guys before and stuff but never…never actual sex. But I want you to be my first."

"Are you sure, Marcy?" Simon asked, gently cupping her cheek with his hand.

Marceline nodded. Simon returned the gesture and was on top of her again. He spread her legs tenderly and aligned himself to enter her. He slowly thrust forward, feeling a slight resistance before slipping fully inside of her. She gasped and her whole body tensed, making Simon cry out in pleasure. Marceline writhed under the older man, feeling herself stretch to accommodate his girth in a way that was slowly becoming pleasurable.

After giving her a moment to adjust, Simon began to pump in and out of the woman pinned underneath him, slowly at first but quickly losing control despite his desire to be gentle. One of his hands, with their long, piano-player's fingers, kneaded her breast while the other steadied her hip. Marceline whimpered, helpless in her pleasure, as Simon's thrusts lost their rhythm and became a wild bucking as he came inside of her. When she felt his warmth fill her, her own orgasm ripped through her body and she eagerly met his thrusts with her own as she clawed at his back. He stayed inside of her for a moment, catching his breath before rolling over onto his back and taking Marceline in his arms.

"I didn't hurt you did I?" Simon asked a few minutes later, as he ran his fingers through Marceline's hair.

"Nope," she replied. "It was perfect. I love you, Simon."

"I love you too, Marcy."

The young woman rested her head on Simon's chest, and together, they drifted into sleep.


End file.
